


The Starving Artist

by obryzii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji as an Artist, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Artists, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Artists, Boys In Love, College, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Digital Art, Doting partner, Drama, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Fatalism, Fatalistic beliefs, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Friendship/Love, Head Injury, Hopeless Idiots, Hoplessly in love, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm Sorry, I'm going to hell for this you'll see, In Need of Love Advice, Injury, Injury Recovery, Jock - Freeform, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Male Friendship, Minor Character(s), Misunderstandings, Naivety, Off-screen Relationship(s), Oikawa Tooru & Sugawara Koushi Friendship, Oikawa Tooru Being Oikawa Tooru, Pack-mentality, Pallas Athena Complex, Pretty Setter Squad, Realistic, Relationship(s), Resolution, Romantic Angst, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Soulmates, Self-Denial, Self-Esteem Issues, Social Anxiety, Social Dynamics, Social Issues, Sugawara as the ultimate mom, Traditional Art, Undecided Relationship(s), Unrequited Love, Unresolved, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:31:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obryzii/pseuds/obryzii
Summary: [BokuAka]College student Akaashi Keiji is an artist. He likes the quiet things in life and admires natural beauty. Using big hands with nimble fingers, he carefully crafts his masterpieces.Bokuto Koutarou is the campus's radiant sun. He can do anything and everything. He's a shining star among a sea of ordinary people. Bokuto went against everything that Akaashi found beautiful. And yet, he couldn't help but be drawn towards him.The two students lived in completely different worlds, however, they couldn't pull themselves away. A huge misunderstanding in their high school days has unknowingly led them even further apart. After years of harboring unrequited love, Akaashi was finally able to dispell Bokuto from his mind, finally able to move on. However, when his life's work is destroyed, the weight of defeat might just be too much for him. What will he do when the cause of all his pain becomes his savior? Who is the one with the real unrequited love? Expressing your thoughts isn't as simple as everyone makes it out to be.Bokuto and Akaashi struggle to find the middle ground between them with the help of their friends.





	1. How Fatalistic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi is hella relatable as an artist: a perfectionist, sleep-deprived, introverted, misunderstood, and has a pretty sad love life (hey, he's lucky he even has one at all). Hang in there, kid.

# How Fatalistic

* * *

 

 

"Akaashi, looks like you're _finally_ taking your hands off that one?" Oikawa snickered. Akaashi's long lashes drooped, half-heartedly rolling his eyes.

"I suppose so, Oikawa-san." His reply was curt, laced with a sharp edge.

"You're so cold to me, Akaashi!" Oikawa whined. Akaashi paid no mind to his tone. When he was painting, he was at peace. The soothing feelings of satisfaction that came from a single swoop of his brush were indescribable to him. Only those who have felt it before would understand the state of his heart.

These past couple weeks, Akaashi had been working on perfecting the project he would present as his year-end final. It was the work that could make or break his grade, and possibly even dictated where his destiny lied even beyond college. This painting was both his heart and soul. He had been pouring in his own essence into it. It was his most desperate desire to submit a work that he could truly be proud of as his final.

Akaashi had never been an outwardly expressive person. One could even say that he hardly showed any expression at all. He's both introspective and reclusive, having always been reticent throughout all his years. At a very young age, art became his means of expressing himself. He felt that he could never convey his feelings and thoughts properly. For him, art was the outlet which he used to do so.

However, because he never willingly or readily divulged his thoughts, he developed quite a bit of social anxiety. His tendency to be introverted blossomed into full-blown unsociability. Since his art was practically an extension of himself, it only added to his anxiety. He was unable to show his work to anyone, not before it was finished. He was uncomfortable with claiming it, even more so with signing his name. Akaashi has always thought so little of himself and of his artwork. Just this once, he wanted to be proud of what he made. Not that he felt like he could ever say it, but to have it in his head was better than nothing.

He and four others had rented out one of the art studios at his campus. It was relatively large, big enough that they could all set up shop in it. They all had an unspoken understanding of certain boundaries. Each person would be left to their own devices. The studio was a sanctuary. It was a place where they could work quietly yet still be in the presence of others. For them, someone there accompanying them, regardless of how much they actually interact, made them feel less alone than they seemed to be. At least, that's how it started. Since then they were all able to develop a tightly knit group of friends.

At the front of the room was Oikawa's desk. He was majoring in Art Management and has been looking to pursue a career in consulting. It was him who first brought them all together in the beginning.

To the left of that was Sugawara's desk, who has been studying Comic Illustration and Animation. He's heavily invested in the anime and manga scene. Out of the five of them, he has a tendency to be the most rambunctious. Well, that's only when something happens to his favorite characters. His most recent obsession has been... _Voltron,_ maybe? Akaashi could hardly remember. There have been so many since the time they first rented out the studio and by many, he means _infinitely_ _many_.

Further down the right, to the left of Sugawara, was Kenma's desk. He was wholeheartedly absorbed with Video Game Design.  He and Sugawara often fight over the power outlets... _All. The. Time._ Those times are the only times when Akaashi has ever heard Kenma raise his voice.

On Oikawa's right sat Shirabu and his pottery wheel. Sculpture was his forte. He and Akaashi seemed to be the only ones primarily interested in traditional art.

In the furthest corner of the room, with his back to the window and his easel's front hidden from the others, was Akaashi's domain. It was the brightest corner of the room. Ironic, since its resident was probably the most gloomy out of their clique.

Akaashi has always been supremely self-conscious over his art. To him, the art of painting was more than throwing colors on a canvas to create a picture. Each time he started a piece, he was carving out a small part of himself. As an artist, he was a perfectionist, an introvert, and private to the point it's borderline paranoia. His personality was always easily misunderstood by others as being timid or aloof, even. 

Working on art in front of others was extremely unsettling for him. Gradually, he became more and more used to their presence, though it's possible that the aura around him would never change. There are some things in this world that just can't be helped.

"OHOHO!" a loud voice bellowed. Akaashi turned on the seat of his stool to find that the window behind him was cracked slightly. Just outside the studio was the campus courtyard. Gathered on the grass was a rowdy horde. They were wild and loud like a flock of crows. Immediately, Akaashi's eyes fell to the man in the center of it all: Bokuto Koutaro.

There are some things in this world that just can't be helped. Exhibit A was Bokuto-san, who Akaashi had spent all of his senior high years–and the majority of his time at university as well–watching him. Bokuto has always had a bright presence with a dynamic charisma that would draw others to him. He was often moody and easily influenced by the words of others, but he was never alone. Akaashi has never witnessed a time when Bokuto was both physically and spiritually alone. He can do anything, be anything, talk to anyone.

There are two sides to life, and if Akaashi was 'here' then Bokuto was 'there,' all the way across the divide. Though all the while Akaashi was 'here' and Bokuto was 'there,' he couldn't stop himself from wanting to travel closer and closer to the line that divided 'here' and 'there.' As much as he found himself annoyed, he couldn't stop looking over to where 'there' was. He couldn't stop himself from asking the question: how does one get from 'here' to 'there'?

Some things in this world just can't be helped. 

Akaashi falling in love with Bokuto was one of those things.

In the same way that someone envies the things they can never have, and the things that they can never be, Akaashi had loved Bokuto. In the same way that one may love his enemy, Akaashi had loved Bokuto. In the same way that insects are attracted to the blinding yet lethal light, Akaashi had loved Bokuto. Akaashi had loved Bokuto; _had loved_ , indicating that the statement was in the past tense.

Since he was a first-year student in high school, Akaashi had held a slow-burning torch of unrequited love. Loving someone was so immensely tiring. There came a time when he could no longer hold the torch, and so he simply blew out the flame. Although his feelings have long since dispelled, he has yet to re-train his gaze. Even after he sent away the burden, Akaashi was still tired. Somewhere deep within him knew that he would always be tired. From across the way, Akaashi could he an echo of Shirabu's irritated sigh.

"Ugh, Oikawa! Akaashi's pining again! Please get him to stop, it's giving me a headache," Shirabu groaned. Oikawa's interest was piqued immediately.

"Hmmm, is that so?" he replied with a silvery voice. Akaashi's grip around his paintbrush tightened. Oikawa leaned forward onto his desk. "So? Who is it?" he asked eagerly. Akaashi promptly turned his head, unintentionally towards the window.

"I'm not pining," he said dryly. "I was just looking out the window. That's completely irrelevant." While he was focused on responding tactfully to Oikawa, he hadn't noticed that Sugawara was already up and out of his seat.

"Whatcha looking at?" Sugawara asked curiously, leaning over his shoulder to look out the window. Akaashi winced at his sudden appearance, retreating back towards his painting.  Sugawara waved his hand at him.

"Relax, relax, I'm not looking at what you're working on. I'm just checking out the view over here." Sugawara's eyes widened a fraction, maybe even sparkled a bit. "Oh? So it's like that, huh?" A small smile tugged at his lips.

"What did you find, Suga-chan?" Oikawa called. Sugawara beckoned for him to come to the window, and he jumped from his seat immediately. The silver-haired boy pointed at a particular group out in the courtyard very excitedly. Oikawa's eyes lit up. "My, my," he sighed. Meanwhile, Akaashi was dumbfounded. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react. No one had ever had even an inkling towards Akaashi's true feelings. How did they unearth one of his most well-guarded secrets so quickly?

"So?" Sugawara asked. Akaashi raised a brow in response.

Oikawa's eyes narrowed seductively, "Which one is he?"

Akaashi's eyes widened, "What makes you think–"

"Well I for one happen to know that _every_ _time_ and I mean _every_ _single_ _time_ , those nuisances are hanging out in the courtyard, you look out the window all wistful and it doesn't stop until they leave. If that's not pining, then I don't know what is. It makes you look even gloomier, so let's just get this over with."

" _Good_ _work_ , Kenjiro-kun!" Oikawa said, holding out his pointer finger as a sign of praise.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me by my given name?" Shirabu grumbled.

"I, too," a smooth voice sounded. Kenma had turned away from his desk to address the commotion. Everyone in the room had turned to look at him. "I would also like to know."

"Come on, we're all over here now. You better not disappoint," Sugawara winked. Akaashi's gaze returned to the window. Bokuto sat joyfully on the grass, laughing and joking with those that surrounded him. They immediately referred to the subject as he. Did they really not mind that even though he was a man himself, he was likely in love with another man? All five of them now crowded around the window.

"Ah, Kuroo's there," Kenma said.

"Kuroo? Which one is that?" Oikawa asked.

"He's the one in a red shirt with black fluffy bangs."

"Ehhh, he looks kinda shifty. How do you know him? You two seem completely different," Sugawara asked. Akaashi jumped at his remark. He calmly closed his hands into fists.

"He's my childhood friend," Kenma replied.

"Really? That's unexpected. At first glance you two don't look like you have anything in common," Sugawara responded. Akaashi was hit with another wave of shock.

That's right. His surprise almost blindfolded him of the truth. They were in completely different worlds. Bokuto really was, in all definitions of the world, irrelevant.

"It's..." he began, and all gazes were immediately on him. His gaze turned slightly downcast. It was difficult to look them all in the eye. "It's just as I said before. I'd rather get back to the task at hand."

"Oh no, you're not getting away with that this time." Oikawa swung his arm out to the side. "Suga-chan, let your motherly powers come forth."

Sugawara saluted him, "You got it, your majesty."

"All of this really isn't necessary," Akaashi protested.

"Is it Kuroo-san? If so, Kenma can probably set you up with him, right?" Sugawara asked.

"No, it's not him. It would have to be someone that he's known about for a long time," Shirabu interjected.

Oikawa held his chin in deep thought, "Hmm, true, very true. So...what would attract our dear Akaashi, then?"

"Something that Akaashi would be unable to ignore since he never seems to care about much," Sugawara replied thoughtfully.

"That!" Oikawa shouted. "Where do you get such an intuition?" Sugawara rolled his head, his silver hair swooping along with it.

"A mother always knows best," he grinned.

"Sugawara-san, if you break out into song _I swear to god_ –"

"Calm calm, Shirabu." Sugawara stroked Shirabu's head as if he was an angry kitten. He jolted away from his touch, then proceeded to fix his disheveled bangs. Shirabu looked at Sugawara through a narrowed gaze.

"Ah!" Oikawa said suddenly. "I've got it!" A freezing chill rippled up Akaashi's spine. He was already expecting the worst. "It's that one, isn't it?" Oikawa pointed a long and elegant finger towards the man in the center of it all. He had an animated laugh and hair slicked back. His posture was casual but not weak by any means.

That man was surely Bokuto, there was no doubt about it. He used all of his energy to maintain his poker face. Akaashi pivoted on stool, his expression slack.

"How many times must I say it?" His lashes lowered over his eyes as if to be completely disinterested. "I was only looking out the window."

"You're so cold, Keiji," Sugawara pouted playfully.

"This is why you don't have a partner, Akaashi-san," Kenma deadpanned.

"Pfft," Shirabu struggled to hold in his laughter.

"Man, just when I thought that there was _finally_ some good scoop around this place. Any hopes of me finding suitable entertainment are completely _crushed_." Oikawa was melodramatic as always. Akaashi would certainly rather die than see his love life become a spectacle for others to enjoy, like a sick joke. It was this part of Oikawa that he often had qualms with. They resumed their work, and strangely there was no further interjections or mention of it after that. The tension between them was heavy. 

Akaashi was by no means ready to divulge all that has happened thus far. While although they didn't know, how cruel of them it was to open up the wound he was trying so desperately to close. He couldn't think of a single way that they would not add weight to his anchor if they knew.

For the rest of the time, they sat in a nearly complete silence. He neither spoke nor dared to gaze through the window.  It was absolutely suffocating. It didn't take long for everyone to disperse. By the time it was well into the afternoon, Akaashi was the only one who remained in the studio. It wasn't unusual, especially since their classes were all at different times.

He slid off his stool, taking several steps back. It was finally finished. Akaashi had slaved away to meet the deadline for this assignment. Looking at it now in its entirety, he felt satisfied.  For the first time in who knows how long, he didn't feel at all ashamed of signing his name on the piece. He was confident in this work. Akaashi was proud of the product, although he was more proud of himself.

He dragged both his finished work, wrapped tightly in clean canvas cloth, and a heavy ladder from the back closet into the main hallway for the Art Department. It was one that was often frequented by professors and outside visitors. If he was hoping to get any exposure at all, this would be the place to hang it. He set up his ladder, measuring out of the spot where his piece would hang. He didn't want it to be under direct light, but close enough so that it could be softly illuminated.

He found himself distracted by the piece that was on a pedestal to his right. It was the sculpture that Shirabu had finished last week. Akaashi had been so consumed with his own work that he hadn't even noticed it was finished. He felt a little pang in his chest. How shameful. He sits right next to the guy for hours at a time, yet he didn't even notice. Akaashi had made a mental note to compliment him on it the next time they saw each other.

Just as he looked up from Shirabu's sculpture, he saw it.

There was only one problem with the hallway he was in. The reason it was so frequented by others was that it connects to the main lobby, which has two entrance points. One was the door to the front of the campus, the other opened up to the courtyard. On the opposite side of the lobby, there was an elevator. Because the elevator has a reputation for being irritatingly slow, people often choose the stairs since they've proven to be much faster. However, the stairs lied at the end of the Art Department's hallway, the hallway that Akaashi was in.

Akaashi saw it coming, but it was too late to do anything about it. A stampede of ruffians came charging down the hallway. Some of them didn't even look old enough to be college students. They stormed down without a single care for their surroundings. There was only three of them, but three was more than enough. The entire time they were passing, Akaashi was holding his breath. Thankfully, there was not one collision. His eyes followed them as they ran. He recognized them as the boisterous people that had been hanging out with Bokuto and his crew earlier on today.

"So loud," he sighed. While he was watching them, he was oblivious to the straggler they left behind. It was a tall and lanky boy with silver hair. In an attempt to dodge the pedestal that sat slightly off the wall, he came plunging into Akaashi's ladder. The sudden force took him by surprise. He watched in surprise as the ground became closer and closer, till finally, he hit the hardwood floor with a thud. His painting had flown out of his grasp. Around him, there were various sounds of snapping and ripping.  Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't even want to know.

"Hey, are you alright?" Akaashi opened his eyes to see the silver-haired boy before him. He had very cat-like green eyes. "I'm so sorry I ran into you, it was an accident, I swear." Akaashi had no words. He was absolutely speechless.

A deep voice called out, "Oi, Lev! What are you doing causing trouble?" It was a tall man with swooping black hair and broad shoulders. _So this was the man that Kenma had called Kuroo earlier_ , Akaashi thought.

"Ack! Kuroo-san!"

"Don't say 'Ack!' you delinquent," Kuroo shouted from across the hall. More and more people seemed to gravitate towards the commotion. Akaashi was still dumbfounded, unable to respond.

"Um...excuse me," Akaashi's attention was then dragged back to Lev. With him standing and Akaashi on the floor, the difference in height was frightening. "I think I might have..." Lev couldn't even finish the sentence. He held out his hand hesitantly. Seeing what he held in his grasp, Akaashi's stomach dropped.

It was his painting. The state of it was...horrifying. The frame of the canvas was snapped in two and there was a giant fist-sized hole in the middle of it. It was if the painting had taken a sucker punch to the gut. The damage was so far beyond the realm of repair.

"Hey hey, you look kind of pale. Are you sure you're ok? Didn't hit your head, did you?" Kuroo had started to pester him now too. He wasn't used to being surrounded by this many people at once. That, combined with the shock, left him at a loss for how to respond. The more he looked at the painting, however, the more he could feel himself wanting to cry. "Oi! What's wrong? Say something..."

Akaashi turned on his heel and ran. As he did so, Kuroo turned to Lev and whacked him on the backside of his head.

"You idiot! Don't run in the halls and look to see where the hell you're going, at least!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried, rubbing his head.

"Well I sure as hell am not the one you need to say sorry too." Kuroo sighed, "Here. Give me that, would you?" He held out his hand and Lev reluctantly placed it in his palm. Kuroo groaned outwardly. "Well jeez, looking at this makes me feel pretty bad now. He probably ran away to go cry. Just look at the state of this thing!" Kuroo proceeded to whack Lev again.

"What the heck was that one for?!"

"What do you think it was for? This is obviously all your fault, you clumsy idiot!" Kuroo chided. There was a long moment of silence between them. Lev was the first to speak again.

"Kuroo-san, didn't that person seem familiar to you?"

"Familiar? Familiar how?" Kuroo raised a brow.

"I'm sure I've seen him before somewhere."

"Yeah right, Mr. Artistically Inept. I doubt you've even walked within a hundred feet of him before now," Kuroo scoffed. He glanced down at the painting, searching for a signature which he found almost immediately. The letters were big and swooping, though still barely legible. "Wait a minute, was that...Akaashi?"

Lev flinched, "You mean Akaashi Keiji-san?"

"Yeah, Bokuto's–"

"What about Akaashi?" Kuroo's body tensed up and he turned around stiffly. Behind them was Bokuto, with his hands hanging casually in his pockets. Kuroo whipped the tattered painting behind his back.

"Ahhaa, Bokuto, what's up bro...?"

"Nothing much, bro. So, what were you guys talking about just now?" The language Bokuto used was strictly casual, but feelings of pressure overwhelmed the two.

"Ah, well, Lev _might've_ done something..."

Bokuto tilted his head to one side, "Like what?" Kuroo hesitantly removed his arm from behind his back, revealing the painting and all its ruined glory. Bokuto gently took it in his grasp.

"Is this Akaashi's?" he asked with his brow furrowed.

"Yeah..."

 

Akaashi was out of sight in a flash. He ran as fast as he could without attracting too much attention. The last thing he wanted was to lose face in front of Bokuto's friends–wait a minute, what was he even saying? Stuff like that...that was at the absolute bottom of his list of problems.

When he made it back to their studio, he was out of breath. Panting, he slammed the door shut. As soon as the door closed, he leaned his back up against it and slid down to the floor. He was not the type to sob, but every once and a while a single tear would well up in his eye. The tear was hot as it ran down his cheek. He brought up a hand to cover his eyes, then wiped it down his face.

That painting was more than just his grade. It was more than his hard work. It was more than all the time and effort he poured into it. It was more than that.

That painting was a step in the right direction. It was a sign that he was finally moving from the impasse he'd been standing at for years. It was proof he was moving forward. He had taken a single step forward but was blown ten steps back. Akaashi ran his hands furiously through his hair.

 _Don't panic_ , he urged himself. _Stay calm. Find a logical solution._

Akaashi was glad the others were no longer here. He was too much of a coward to let them see him like this. Would this be how his life plays out from now on? Always going backward, never moving forward. He hadn't bothered to turn the lights on and the sun was beginning to set. The light around him was becoming dimmer and dimmer. He finally roused himself from the floor and dragged himself to the stool at the base of his easel. With his back slumped over in his seat, his hands gripped the chair. He stared at the empty wood frame blankly, as if he wasn't even alive.

There are some things in this world that can't be helped. Love can't be helped. Hate can't be helped. Misfortune can't be helped. Fortune can't be helped.

When he thought back to the root of everything, there was one face that appeared in his mind.

The obssession he has with Bokuto Koutaro...can't be helped. The mirror might be the only thing he was unable to face, but that man was the one mountain he has been unable to climb.

"How fatalistic," he whispered. Akaashi banged his forehead on the frame of the easel. "It's no wonder that he's over 'there' and I'm over 'here.'"

He fumbled with one of his paintbrushes in his hand. For a moment, his vision blurred. It startled him. He hasn't gotten a good night's sleep for days. Either sleep deprivation was finally kicking in, or he really did hit his head when he fell. Akaashi clenched his teeth. His head was throbbing uncontrollably. Perhaps he should close his eyes...just for a bit.

 _Bokuto Koutaro...why did I have to fall in love with you?_  

The question echoed through his mind. Something that started off as a simple yes or no has become something that he can't seem to stop.

_Isn't this enough now? Can't I be done?_

"Take...some...responsibility," he murmured. His voice itself had given over to the drowsiness that plagued him. Akaashi's breathing slowed as he fell into a deep sleep. His body could no longer hold himself up, and he fell to the floor with a thud. Not even the impact of the ground and the clanging of the stool woke him; he was out cold on the floor.

 

Bokuto, who had taken the dismembered painting from Kuroo, had resolved to return it. He knew Akaashi's habits well. He probably ran somewhere where he could be alone, so he's likely in his studio. Thinking back on it now, Bokuto wished he had stayed a little longer to give Lev a serious beating. Kuroo needed to get that kid under control.

"I guess that's what happens when parents let their kids go off the rails," he grumbled.

As he walked down the hallway, weaving through the various corridors of the campus, Bokuto's entire body trembled. His body was giddy with nervous excitement. The last time he had spoken to Akaashi was the few interactions they had together in senior high.

Was it once? Maybe even twice?

He remembered being extremely nervous while talking to him. He wasn't even able to speak properly. Bokuto recalled himself immediately beginning to save up enough courage to speak to him once more after that, but he could never work up the nerve.

Akaashi was always alone back in senior high. Usually, people tend to feel more intimidated to approach someone when they have a bunch of people surrounding them, but with Akaashi, it was the exact opposite. Every time Bokuto had tried to talk to him, it was like he was going over a line that he wasn't supposed to cross. What's worse is that every time he took one step in that direction, his peers stared him down. Every motion toward him seemed to be treated as amoral. They were never in the same class, which made it even harder.

However, how could anyone possibly gather enough courage after witnessing...that? That particular memory was still etched into his brain. He would never be able to forget it, or Akaashi's expression at that time. Any hope for the feelings he had was crushed before they could even develop.

He was recollecting more of it now. The shock had thrown him into depression for a solid _week_.

Bokuto had held a small, desperate flame of hope that his thinking has changed since then. Maybe the two of them would be able to reach an understanding. He would ask if they could start again, but he could picture Akaashi's response.

 _"We haven't even started anything in the first place, Bokuto-san"_ is what he would say.

If he hasn't changed, then there were two paths he could take: accommodate for that or leave the feelings he has for Akaashi behind. He was afraid that the latter would break him. Bokuto couldn't even begin to understand how he would go about that. Moving on, moving forward...that was something he didn't want to do without Akaashi.

"Maybe I should thank Lev for giving me this chance," he whispered to himself. This next encounter would decide their fate.

Bokuto stood in front of the door for an unbearably long time. This was never going to work if he couldn't even manage to open the door. His forehead began to sweat as he stared at the handle.

"You're returning his painting, not asking for his hand in marriage!" he reprimanded himself. "Come on Koutaro, get a grip." Suddenly his face paled, realizing the gravity of his comparison.

_Marriage?! Where the hell did that come from?!_

He bonked himself on the head, trying to get his reason to return to him. Bokuto was prepared to mull over it for another thirty minutes or so, that was until he heard a startling bang. His body jolted at the sound. Without hesitation, he opened the door with so much force that it flung to the wall, even ricocheting off it.

"Akaashi?!" he yelled. Bokuto threw the tattered painting to the side, wholeheartedly ignoring his original purpose. "Akaashi! What happened?!" His erratic gaze searched the room fervently. When his eyes locked onto Akaashi's slumped over body, his heart dropped into his stomach. He raced over to his side, kneeling down next to him. His hand patted Akaashi's cheek and winced. There was a fiery heat attached to his skin.

"Oi, Akaashi. Come on, wake up!" Bokuto shook his shoulder more vigorously. "Wake up, Akaashi!" No matter what he did, Akaashi remained motionless. Bokuto started to hyperventilate. He pushed his hair back, pressing his hands into his skull. "Shit...shit _fuck_. What should I do?" In his peripheral vision, he saw the familiar gleam of glass. "That's it! His phone!" His hand trembled and shook as he frantically reached for it, hastily pulling it from Akaashi's pocket.

"Who's his emergency contact?" he fretted. Once he found the number labeled ICE, he dialed it almost instantly. As he looked at the number, he couldn't help but find the area code somewhat familiar. After awhile, the other end of the line finally picked up.

"Hello?" a strong voice called. Bokuto knew this voice instantly.

"Daichi?!"

"Bokuto...? What's wrong?" Daichi asked.

"This isn't your number, is it? Whose phone is this?" Bokuto demanded.

"It's my boyfriend's. Do you want me to get him for you?"

"Yes!" Bokuto shouted quickly.

"Just a second," Daichi replied. Through the line, Bokuto could hear him call 'Sugaaa!' and the clumsy pattern of feet following it. "Sugawara Koushi speaking," A new, much brighter voice had taken over the line.

"Akaashi...he won't wake up. Sugawara-san, you're listed as Akaashi's emergency contact and I'm not sure what to do or who I should call–"

"Where are you right now?!"

"I-uh, we're...he's..." Bokuto couldn't help but stutter. The shock was really getting to him.

"I said, tell me where you are right now!" Sugawara demanded.

"Th-The studio," he blurted.

"Stay put and keep an eye on him," Sugawara said fiercely. "We'll be there in ten." The call ended abruptly and Bokuto let the phone fall to the floor. He pulled Akaashi's limp body close to his chest. His ebony locks were soft but had a musty smell. Akaashi's body was burning up. It was like holding a bag of hot coals.

"Just...hang in there, okay?" Bokuto whispered. "I won't let anything happen to you."

He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more: Akaashi who's lying unconscious, or himself. Out of all the chaos, there was one thing he has been able to determine.

There was no way he was ever going to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Pallas Athena Complex (PAC): The reluctance to reveal your work until it is very nearly complete. Someone with the PAC will create something and when asked to present it to get comments from your peers/superiors, will tweak it until it is impressive as possible. They hold the expectation that their work should emerge ready to conquer the objections of others and is able to stand completely on its own with little to no justification. It feeds into/off of Imposter Syndrome as well as various forms of anxiety and fears. Often times those with the PAC will work at their piece so much that by continuing to pick at it without improving it, it will only get worse rather than better. It's not uncommon in academics and has been dubbed as one of the leading causes of academic failure. In this AU, Akaashi is often faced with it and it is a vital part of how he deals with many situations and pieces of artwork.
> 
> ICE: ICE is an abbreviation which stands for "In Case of Emergency." First responders will often check phones for a number labeled "ICE" so that they know who to call. In other words, the number listed as "ICE" in someone's phone can be considered their emergency contact should they be in danger.
> 
> Soooooo.....I decided I'd write a BokuAka fic because...yes? I started this as a dump for me to take a break when Change of Tide was making me frustrated (which has been almost every day, lately). When I started this, I actually had a completely different plan for the storyline...but somehow things just ended up this way? Idk? Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! (My favorite part is already the fact that Akaashi can't tell that everyone is gay...)
> 
> ~obryzii


	2. Softly-Softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi wakes up in the hospital. Sugamama has too much to deal with. Apparently he's a demon, not an angel? Turns out, Bokuto is good for something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad people are reading this and liking it! Thank you so much, everyone <3 I promise I'm not that scary and I really like talking to people! I LOVE to get input from the readers so if you have anything at all to say please do!
> 
> This chapter was actually supposed to be longer, but I ended up splitting it, so the rest of what I was going to include will be in the next upcoming chapter. :D When I started writing this chapter I honestly hated it so much but I think it ended up okay at the end. SO GLAD I SPLIT THE CHAPTER. I would have never finished.
> 
> As you will see...pining Akaashi is my new aesthetic. No shame whatsoever.
> 
> Also, please take heed that there are some heavily descriptive scenes involving anxiety in this chapter. (Please see the edited section of the end notes for more information)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you are having an amazing night/day/etc!
> 
> Enjoy!

# Softly-Softly

* * *

 

 

White. 

 

Everything around him was white.

 

His surroundings were covered entirely in a pale ethereal fog. Akaashi found the bright light mildly painful, searing into his retinas. The temples of his head throbbed incessantly. The pain was not a good sign, not that it ever is. Where in hell was he, even?

He allowed his eyelids to open a little wider, though he quickly returned to squinting. Akaashi felt as if every single one of his movements were in slow motion. Rubbing his fingertips against the sheets, he shifted in the bed. The sheets were rough and coarse. As he shifted, he could hear the crinkling of his gown.

Wait a minute. Bed? Gown?

"Am I in a hospital?" he mused aloud.

"Akaashi Keiji!" a voice shrieked. Akaashi flinched at the volume, his ears were beginning to ring. He slowly lifted his arms up over his eyes, blocking out the light.

"Please...turn the lights off," he whined. A dark shadow suddenly fell over the brightly lit room. Akaashi finally felt as if he could see. He exhaled deeply, removing his arms from his face. The moment he did, his vision was filled immediately by a raging Sugawara. If he looked closely enough, he was sure smoke could be seen coming out of his nostrils and ears.

"Akaashi."

"Yes?" he replied.

"What the fuck were you thinking, letting yourself go like that? Learn to take better care of yourself, God damn it!" Sugawara shouted his complaints with great vigor. The crease in Akaashi's brow reappeared again.

"Not so loud, old hag," he muttered. Sugawara's entire face distorted.

"Hag?! I'm only a year older than you! If you weren't an invalid right now I'd certainly teach you some respect!" Sugawara clamored brassily.

"Again, not so loud please," Akaashi groaned, completely ignoring Sugawara's words. Before Sugawara was able to descend into his demonic form, Oikawa jumped between the two.

"Now now, Suga-chan. You shouldn't use violence on the weak," Oikawa cooed. "We've always known that Akaashi is atrocious in the mornings. It shouldn't come as a surprise." Sugawara's mouth twitched. His face was bombarded with an irritated expression.

"I'm going to go let the doctor know he's woken up." With that, Sugawara promptly exited the room.

"He was worried sick about you, you know. It scared the living shit out of Mr. Refreshing, getting a call like that." Oikawa shook his head.

"...Call?" Akaashi raised a brow.

"You collapsed in the studio. You're damn lucky that someone found you right away," Oikawa paused, then continued. "What were you even doing yesterday?" It was several moments before Akaashi looked like he registered the question.

"What was I doing? I..." Akaashi's brow furrowed, "I...I was going to hang my painting...and then..."

"And then?"

"I...I can't remember," he said with frustration. It was like a giant black hole had appeared in his memory. Oikawa crossed his arms and sighed.

"You're hopeless, you know that? We can't even leave you alone for five minutes, otherwise you decide to run off and break yourself."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"Well no shit, Sherlock!" Oikawa's voice started to shake. His lips pressed firmly into a thin line. Akaashi could hear his breaths becoming more erratic.

"Oikawa, are you crying?" he asked.

"Well, my favorite KPOP group is set to disband today, that's all!" His reply came back as a swift retort. "It's not like I was worried about you or anything like that. No way." Oikawa sharply turned his back toward Akaashi. He could barely suppress his chuckle. It was obvious that Oikawa cared, but it also made him feel uneasy. What happened to him that sent them all into disarray? Before he could elaborate on that thought, the door to his room clicked open.

"Good morning, Akaashi-san. I'm Takeda-sensei." The man that entered the room had a warm and soothing aura to him. He had dark brunette hair that was slightly curly and black-framed glasses. He smiled softly at Akaashi and the group, a true source of relief among all the tension that was beginning to gather.

"Sensei," he replied curtly, still studying the doctor's face.

"How are you feeling?" Takeda asked. Akaashi responded by staring him down with dead, lifeless eyes. "That great, huh?" He jots a small note down on his notepad, then turns to Oikawa.  "Have you made any observations in the short time he's woken up?"

"Definitely out of it. A little more irritable than usual. He kept complaining about our voices being too loud and wasn't handling the light very well," Oikawa replied.

Takeda's brows lowered, "I see."

"I'm sitting right here next to you, you know," Akaashi deadpanned.

"My apologies, Akaashi-san." Takeda smiled warmly back at him, "Have you noticed anything, in particular, that's off since you've woken up? Any nausea, headaches, maybe even feeling like you're going to vomit?" It was awhile before Akaashi was able to respond.

"I have a headache and some occasional spouts of blurry vision. My throat's pretty sore, though I'm not sure that means I'm going to vomit."

"How much can you remember from the event?" Takeda probed.

"Not much of anything, really."

Takeda proceeded to jot down some notes, "How has your sleep schedule been this week?" Akaashi turned away to hide the guilty expression on his face.

"I'd say they're more like circadian squiggles than rhythms," he mumbled.

"Akaashi!" Sugawara chided. A concerned expression fell across Takeda's face.

"On average, how many hours of sleep would you say you got every night of this week?"

"I'd say around two hours at best," Akaashi replied shamefully. Takeda's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, then exhaled heavily.

"I'd like to talk to you about your diagnosis now if that's alright." Akaashi nodded in response. The doctor made eye contact with each set of eyes in the room before continuing. "It's clear that you are facing sleep deprivation. It's also highly likely–and when I say highly likely, I mean almost certain–that you've sustained a concussion from your other injuries. It's probable that after the injury, you did something that aggravated your concussion symptoms, which ultimately lead you to the hospital. However, sleep deprivation and a concussion is a complicated combination. Since it's long after the time of the original injury, I'm not able to check through the more apparent means, such as dilation of the pupils. I'd like to confine you to bed rest here to see if some of your symptoms improve, though if they still persist, I'll schedule an MRI in advance. After we get those results, we should be able to see clearly if there was any internal damage to the brain." Takeda's face darkened. "My biggest concern is the internal state of your brain. If there's any swelling in the tissue, we could run into some more problems."

"So how long do you suppose he'll be in the hospital for?" Sugawara asked.

"Well, we'd like to monitor his behavior for the next 48 hours. Beyond that depends on the severity of his symptoms when the time comes. Please refrain from doing any activities that may require intense mental concentration or physical activity that will agitate your symptoms both during and after that time." Takeda's reply was frank.

"So," Akaashi began, "in short, I won't be able to do much of anything."

"I'm sorry to say that you're correct."

Closing his eyes, Akaashi groaned inwardly. He racked his brain for any recollection of the prior events, but he couldn't dig up a single thing. It was if everything had disappeared from time, and it bothered him. It bothered the freaking hell out of him. The thought gradually led to an obsession as he ruminated inside his brain.

"Will either of us need to stay with him?" Sugawara inquired.

"I would recommend it, although it would have to be someone who doesn't cause any additional stress and someone whom he feels comfortable or secure with." Takeda looked at them both skeptically through the lenses of his glasses with a skeptical expression. He knew that if someone was to stay, it wouldn't be either of them. Oikawa and Sugawara immediately locked eyes with each other.

"Kenma?" Oikawa suggested.

Sugawara nodded in approval, "Kenma."

"Well, I'll leave you to sort out your affairs. Should you need me, I'll be right down the hall. The nurses are available at any time as well." Takeda waved a solemn goodbye, exiting the room with a kind smile on his face. After he left, Akaashi immediately directed his attention to Sugawara and Oikawa.

"You don't have to call him," he said hoarsely. "I'll be fine by myself."

Sugawara rolled his eyes, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Besides, I already called him." Oikawa's tongue hung out of his mouth playfully as he waved his phone back and forth.

"You called Shirabu too, didn't you...?" Akaashi grumbled. Oikawa looked supremely offended.

"Of course we did," he replied instantly. Akaashi turned his gaze towards the ceiling again. This closeness was unfamiliar to him. He has never had a group of friends like _this_ before. Well, he's never really had a group of friends, period. He had people he would greet in the morning and others he would say farewell to in the afternoon, but that was the extent of it.

Because of that, because they _truly_ cared about him (although Shirabu would certainly protest that statement), he felt guilty. He was less concerned about his own health than the health of his friends. His first _real_ friends. It's hard to believe that it nearly took half his life span in order to find them. Akaashi wished that he had met them earlier. If he had, things certainly would be different than now.

If he had met them earlier, instead of being 'here,' would be over 'there' with him? The comparison between Bokuto and light was becoming even more apparent to him. While the annoying brightness makes him squint, he needs the light to see. Reflective light can only take someone so far. Just for that, Akaashi felt the need to slap himself in the face. Bokuto happened to be the last person he wanted to think about right now. How far does he have to go just to get some freaking closure?

Oikawa was right. He's hopeless in so many different ways.

Akaashi had been so lost in his own thought that he didn't realize how much time composed solely of utter silence had passed.

"Well, Kenma said he'd be able to come later possibly, but he'll definitely be there tomorrow," Oikawa said. He and Sugawara were about to exit the room.

"Hey," Akaashi called, interjecting their movements. They both turned to look at him. "Thanks," he said finally. He couldn't help but feel that it was somehow long overdue. Sugawara smiled widely back at him, his brightness transforming his whole face.

"You're actually a softie at heart, aren't you?" Sugawara chuckled.

"N-no," Akaashi stuttered, getting quite flustered.

"Yeah, yeah," Sugawara waved dismissively with his hand and exited the room with Oikawa.

When Sugawara opened the door, he and Oikawa were greeted with loud snores. Sprawled all over the chair next to Akaashi's hospital room was Bokuto, the one who happened to be the first responder at the scene. There was even a little drop of drool to be seen coming out of his mouth.

Sugawara raised a brow, "That guy's still here?" Oikawa, who wasn't all that amused, walked over to the sleeping log. He held his forefinger with his thumb right next to his forehead and released it with so much force that the sleeper jolted awake, glancing at the two with wide eyes.

"You said your name was Bokuto, right?" Oikawa said in a silvery voice. He nodded repeated in response. A smile came across Oikawa's face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Get lost."

"Is Akaashi awake yet?" Bokuto blurted out. Oikawa's nose twitched.

"Did you not hear me? I said to–"

"How do you know Akaashi?" Sugawara suddenly interjected. Bokuto winced and began to laugh nervously.

"Aha, well you see, I'm an acquaintance of the one who got into a collision with Akaashi..." Bokuto desperately avoided looking Sugawara in the eyes. They burned into him with fiery resolution. "Daichi," he whispered to himself. "I thought you said you were dating an _angel_ , not _Satan._ "

Sugawara bent his face down to his level, "If you go in there, what are you going to do?" Bokuto was trapped underneath the silver-haired demon's scrutinizing gaze. He could almost feel the sweat dripping down his temple.

"Apologize, of course..." Bokuto's whole body had turned to stone. Blinking at him several times, Sugawara's face came even closer. Then, his back straightened, assuming a very regal posture. As Sugawara started to speak, his back was already turned towards Bokuto.

"You have permission to enter," Sugawara said, walking down the hall. Bokuto's face lit up with excitement. Suddenly, Sugawara had stopped in his tracks.

"Thank y–" Bokuto began, but he was quickly interrupted.

"But if I hear any complaints from Akaashi," Sugawara said, turning his head to glance back at him. He was smiling, except...Bokuto probably would have preferred it if he wasn't. "I'll make sure you'll never set foot in this hospital for the rest of time he's here." The villainous look sent shivers down Bokuto's spine. They resumed their exit, leaving Bokuto chained down with fear. He stood stiffly from his chair, looking at his reflection in the windows across the hall. The wild hairstyle he was sporting previously has now fallen. It transformed itself into an out of control nest of bedhead. His hair fell all the way to his eyes, blurring some parts of his vision. He tried using his hands to return it to its original shape, but it was no use. It continued to fall right back down immediately after he did so.

"Ahh, fuck it," he grumbled. Bokuto stood before the door of the hospital room, hesitant. He gritted his teeth. _Talk about déjà vu_ , he thought. Frustrated with himself, he charged through the door. Upon opening it, he found Akaashi laying in a hospital bed, wide-eyed. Bokuto's eyes dance from Akaashi to the door, then back to Akaashi again. Akaashi's expression didn't change. He looked to be in a state of perpetual shock. His mouth looked as if it was about to form the sound of a letter, but it quickly stopped. Bokuto squirmed underneath his gaze.

"What do you want?" Akaashi snapped at him, sharper than he had expected, causing him to jolt.

"Ahh, well, my name is Bokuto Koutarou," he said, scratching the back of his head. Akaashi's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know who you are," Akaashi whispered. It was ever so soft, yet Bokuto still heard the faint sound. His round, yellow eyes widened a fraction. Akaashi, having realized that Bokuto had heard him, assumed an expression that mimicked his own. Bokuto felt as if his art was being thrust up his throat, he was so filled with happiness. "Wh-what I meant to say was that you and your friends usually hang out in the courtyard. You guys are usually are _so_ loud that we can hear it all the way on the second floor, even with the windows closed." Bokuto stood in front of the bed stone-faced, mouth slightly parted. The insult hadn't even touched him.

 _Akaashi just stuttered,_ Bokuto thought. The notification repeated on loop over and over inside his head. He was fully immersed in the moment that had already passed.

 _Shit_ , he swore. _That was so fucking cute._  Bokuto hadn't even realized that Akaashi could even _be_ flustered. He was always so stoic, so expressionless. The only thing that seemed to impassion him was art. Right then, Bokuto started to recall the warmth of his body when he had held Akaashi to his chest. In remembering that warmth, he felt cold. A brisk chill ran up his spine. 

He had given up on him way too early. Had he had stayed, perhaps he could've _seen_ more, _known_ more about Akaashi. If he would have stuck around long enough, he would have realized that Akaashi is also _human_. Of course, he can be flustered, upset, happy, grim, angry, and so much more. Bokuto wanted to know. He wanted to see every single expression Akaashi is able to make and know instantly what his feelings were inside.

 _Hmph_ , he scoffed. _Undecipherable my ass._

"What about your ass...?" Akaashi said, raising a brow. Bokuto hadn't realized that he said the last bit out loud. Immediately upon realization, his face flushed a beat red.

He thought about jumping out of the nearest window as penance.

"I'm seriously so sorry I never meant to say that actually out loud I was only talking to myself and please think nothing of it I'm so sorry if I offended you in any way I mean really, feel free to hit me I'd be totally fine with it since it would be a good punishment and I–" Bokuto poured out all the words that came into his head, without even pausing a single time. His breathless rant was interrupted by the sound that cut a knife into his heart.

It was soft yet clear,  like the sound of a bell. It was smooth and melodious like running water. Akaashi tried to hide it by covering it with his fist, but that didn't change the fact.

Akaashi was laughing.

 _I could die happy now._  He bit his tongue that time, careful not to repeat his previous mistake.

"Sorry," Akaashi said, a half a smile was leaking onto his lips. "At least take a breath once in a while, jeez."

"Anyways," Bokuto began, eager to change the subject. He wasn't sure how much more of this his heart would be able to take. "I came here to apologize on behalf of my friend."

Akaashi cocked his head to the side, "Apologize? What for?"

"He was the one that ran into you," Bokuto replied. Akaashi raised a brow in confusion. Then, it finally occurred to him. "Could it be that...you don't remember?"

"No Bokuto-san, I don't remember," Akaashi deadpanned. It seemed as if he had struck a nerve.

"I heard most of the story from my friend who happened to be there at the time. I could tell you if you want?" Akaashi whipped his face to the side, refusing to meet his eyes. "I was actually the one who found you when you collapsed. I only just happened to be looking for you at the time," Bokuto added quickly. Akaashi flinched.

"You were looking for me?" he asked hesitantly.

"I had to return your painting." From Bokuto's perspective, it seemed as if Akaashi was not at all at ease with the idea of Bokuto looking for him. He clenched his fists at his sides.

"Oh, I see." Akaashi sighed. Bokuto was unable to tell if that was a sigh of relief or disappointment. His mind felt like it was running in circles, chasing after something completely intangible. They stood for several minutes in a painfully awkward silence. Bokuto was unable to stop fidgeting. "You're quite hyperactive," Akaashi finally said.

"Huh?" Bokuto titled his head in confusion.

"Nevermind," Akaashi scoffed. Though his head was still turned to the side, Bokuto could still see the corners of his mouth turn upwards slightly. "I would like it if you tell me everything you know about what happened...was it yesterday?" The round-eyed male jolted as if someone had clamped down on a blowhorn right next to his ear.

"Oh, ah, yes. This all happened yesterday. You slept in the hospital overnight," he replied quickly.

"I figured that much."

Bokuto's eyes danced around nervously, "From what I heard from my friends who were at the scene, you were hanging your painting in the main hallway." As the story went on, his tone dropped lower, more serious and solemn. "You were hanging it rather high up. While you were standing on a ladder, a group of idiots ran through. Thankfully, they all managed to steer clear of you. However, there was apparently a straggler. Lev, who happens to be a friend of a friend, in an attempt to dodge something else, struck himself smack dab into the ladder you were standing on. You both went down, and we believe that's what the concussion is from." The lids of Bokuto's eyes lowered, "I paid a visit to him last night and dragged the details out of him. Don't worry, it's accurate." It was barely noticeable, but Bokuto's tone was a tad darker than it had been previously.

 _Lev, that fucking IDIOT,_ he growled to himself.

Akaashi groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Please tell me I drop kicked his ass?" he muttered.

"Actually...right after that, you ran away."

"You're joking."

"Not even a little bit," Bokuto smiled cheekily.

"Well fuck," he grumbled. Suddenly, his eyes sprung open. His head sharply whisked forward, finally looking Bokuto in the eye again. "What about the painting?" he asked, his tone low and grave.

"Ah, well that's–"

"What happened to it?" Akaashi demanded. The image of the tattered art came into his mind immediately. He wasn't sure it was even classified as a painting anymore. "Bokuto-san," Akaashi called, though he didn't answer. "Bokuto Koutarou!" Akaashi said more firmly.

He visibly gritted his teeth, "I'm sorry." It was all he managed to force out. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Akaashi cared deeply about his art. Immediately, the raven-haired boy's brows furrowed.

"Sorry? What do you mean you're sorry?" He sat upright in the hospital bed immediately. The pace of Akaashi's breathing had hastened. Bokuto's lips pressed into a firm line, shaking his head.

"The painting was...the painting took the worst injuries." Just as he spoke, Bokuto was forced to watch all color leave Akaashi's face. For once, he could clearly see everything that was happening inside. Only by looking into his eyes, Bokuto saw Akaashi's stomach flip and his heart drop. Every movement was crystal clear.

"Please leave," Akaashi panted. He was already hyperventilating. The owl-eyed boy watched the little raven as it glanced around anxiously.

"You shouldn't move your head around so mu–"

"Please leave, Bokuto-san." This command came even more hurried than the last one. It sounded...it sounded halfway to desperate. Akaashi's thin fingers gripped the sheets tightly. Bokuto dared to take several steps forward towards the bed. Slowly, but still steps nonetheless.

 

Akaashi couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The beat of his heart accelerated to a pace that was beyond normal limits. The only sound that came through his ears was the pounding noise of pumping blood.

 _It was just a painting_ , he repeated to himself. _It was just a painting_. Though no matter how many times he repeated it, even thought it was 'just a painting,' he couldn't stop what was about to come. Everything in his brain was moving so fast that there was simply no time to evaluate the situation calmly. The more he kept his eyes open the dizzier he got, the harder it was to stay upright, so he closed them. He squeezed down so tight that they were mere crinkles in his face.

"Akaashi." It was Bokuto's voice, ringing strong and clear through his mind.

"Bokuto-san, get out," he said firmly. It was bad enough he was having this here, right now. It was even worse that it was happening in front of Bokuto. Akaashi could hear the sound of strong footsteps as they came even closer to his bed. His chest was heaving.

He was being strangled to death. That's what it felt like. It felt as if someone had reached their hands into his chest and clamped down onto his lungs, squeezing out all the air.

"Akaashi," Bokuto said again.

"Bokuto-san, you need to step ba–"

"Akaashi." His voice was firm, confident. To Akaashi's surprise, two warm large hands gently covered his ears. "Breathe," Bokuto murmured.

_It's just my name. All he said was my name..._

_He said my name._

Akaashi little by little started to release the pressure he was putting on his eyelids and his face began to relax. Seeing him relax, Bokuto steadily pulled Akaashi's forehead to his chest, hugging his arms around Akaashi's head. The raven-haired boy opened his eyes out of surprise but found himself unable to close them again. His vision was entirely blinded by Bokuto's shirt.

"Breathe, Akaashi." This time, instead of a command, it seemed more like a plead.

All of his senses were being blocked by Bokuto. His sight was consumed by his shirt, a dark slate gray color. His sense of touch became calm, just from being held. His sense of smell took in nothing but the slightly musty yet rustic scent, similar to that of the earth. All he heard was the soft inhale and exhale of Bokuto's breath. It didn't take long before Akaashi had used him as a metronome, matching the pace of Bokuto's breaths to his own. It was a steady rise and fall of deep inhales and exhales. It was if Bokuto was breathing along with him.

For a long while, they did nothing except sit and breathe. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved. They sat there, just like that, until every muscle in Akaashi's body had relaxed and he regained that stoicism that he's always had. Even then, neither of them moved.

"How did you know to do that?" Akaashi whispered into his chest.

"My best friend has someone in his life who has bad social anxiety. I remembered him describing how he diffused the situation once it's gotten out of hand."

"I see," Akaashi breathed. The epic battle with himself had only reminded him of how horribly exhausted he was. Every motion of his chest he made now simply ached. "Why didn't you leave?"

Bokuto winced, "Why would I leave?"

Akaashi sighed, "Let me rephrase: Why did you stay?"

"It's my responsibility."

"Like hell it is," Akaashi grumbled.

"It's true," Bokuto replied right back. "You sound tired."

"Don't change the subject."

"They're my friends, my responsibility."

"They're your friends, but this is their responsibility, not yours."

"Do they _sound_ like someone who could handle that?" Bokuto asked.

"Do _you_?" Bokuto couldn't respond because somewhere deep down within him was in agreement. "I can take care of myself."

"This is not about that," Bokuto said firmly. Akaashi shifted in surprise within his grasp. "This is not about that at all."

"Please clarify what 'this' is."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean, Bokuto-san. I don't know what you mean unless you tell me," Akaashi said frankly. 

"'This' would be my actions and motives," he said hesitantly.

"You never seemed like the type to have an ulterior motive." Akaashi closed his eyes.

"I'm not. I don't," Bokuto said, maybe a little too quickly. "This is about what's right and what's wrong."

"That's quite the gray area," Akaashi noted.

"You shouldn't have to deal with everything yourself. That's not right," Bokuto declared.

"But I already do, though?"

"Doesn't mean you should have to."

"You're too damn righteous," he sighed.

"Well you're too damn stubborn," Bokuto replied, a silent gleam in his eye.

"I'm not stubborn, I'm realistic."

"Is there really a difference?" Bokuto asked. Akaashi trembled, chuckling a bit into Bokuto's chest.

"I can't believe _you're_ the person I'm having this conversation with," he snickered.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Bokuto exclaimed. Akaashi's lips formed a hidden smile.

"Nevermind it, Bokuto-san."

"I can be dependable, Akaashi."

"Back to this again? All the same, I believe you, Bokuto-san."

"That tone of yours does not sound at all convincing!" he exclaimed. "Akaashi," Bokuto paused, somewhat cautious. "I will take responsibility."

"If it's you, it will be alright Bokuto-san." It wasn't a sarcastic statement in the least, but coming from him, it sounded so lifeless. Normally at times like this Bokuto would have been far off onto a tangent by now, but his sincerity really appealed to him.

_'I will take responsibility.'_

Akaashi has been waiting years to hear those words, _years_. Though it doesn't have the same meaning Akaashi had wished it to have, he was too tired to resist. Tired from this week, tired from this month, tired from the wasted years he spent pining after the idiot sitting in front of him now.

_'I will take responsibility.' Let me be happy with just that._

There was not even a single situation where Akaashi could have imagined a better outcome. He was one of those people that were easily contented. It was as if a massive weight had been lifted off of his chest. For the first time in a long time, Akaashi felt truly serene. 

There was no need to think about what happened next. Right here, right now, was all Akaashi needed, and probably all he will need for the rest of his lifetime.

In his mind, he imagined himself whispering a quiet thank you, though it never came.

"Hey, Akaashi," Bokuto began. "I meant what I said." When he was received with absolute silence, he pulled Akaashi's head away from his chest. The conversation would have to be continued another day, for the raven-haired boy was already taken away by a deep sleep.

Bokuto flinched as a gentle thump rhythmically knocked at the door. It crept open slightly, revealing the kind face of a nurse.

"Excuse me," her voice was smooth and melodious, "but visiting hours are now closed."

"Ah, yes, of course. I'll be out right away," he replied, slightly flustered. Bokuto could feel the heat rising into his cheeks. She had caught them at a rather...intimate moment. He couldn't help but be embarrassed.

Bokuto tenderly lowered Akaashi back onto the hospital bed, watching his eyelashes flutter occasionally. He motioned toward the door, but before he could exit, he greedily stole one last glance behind him. At that time, he saw someone who seemed more at peace than he ever had in his entire life. For a moment, he was dumbfounded, absolutely stunned. By the beauty, by the irony–all of it. Just taking all of it in was overwhelming.

 

Gingerly closing the door, he made sure not even a sound could be heard. The moment he was out of range, he whipped out his phone and dialed. 

 

"Kuroo, your place open yet? I need a fucking drink."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***EDIT: There have been some questions asked about Akaashi and his anxiety, saying that if he was having a 'real' panic attack he wouldn't want anyone to touch him. Akaashi's anxiety is based off my own anxiety, especially with my art. Part of the reason I wrote this work was so That I would be able to figure out some of the things I was struggling with. Yes, my case is diagnosed by a professional. Yes, I do take medication. Yes, I do see a social worker. Yes, I've experienced a real panic attack. Yes, I've had a panic attack in public. (These are actual questions that have come up from a couple different sources. It isn't directed at anyone in particular.) I wrote this scene in accordance with my own experiences.
> 
> The method in which Bokuto comforts Akaashi is based off a method called Deep Pressure Therapy. It's a method of sensory integration therapy which involves applying firm pressure (something like a hug, cuddling, etc.) and is proven to generate feelings of calm, especially in younger children. It works well with other mental illnesses such as Sensory Processing Disorder and ADHD (both of which I also have). Now obviously this doesn't work for everyone, and some people may have experiences which have caused an aversion towards physical contact. In that case, I can totally see how this method would not work for you. However, it does work for me. It also has to be someone that I have deemed as a 'safe person', I have a strong emotional connection with, or makes me feel safe. I really only would allow my mom and my best friend (who's basically my second mom) to do with this with me. Point of the story being, I can only write this as I've experienced it. Doing it any other way would be fake and I would much rather maintain the integrity of this story.
> 
> ~
> 
> Ft. Takeda sensei as...Takeda sensei? haha
> 
> I have a little bit of a headcanon going that Akaashi secretly has a lot of anxiety but he just hides it, that's how he's so good at handling the emotional types because he understands their thought process :3 I also think that Bokuto can't be the only one that's getting taken care of. There should be some reciprocation going on.
> 
> Also, another one that totally states that Oikawa would listen to kpop ha.
> 
> Big thanks to my new friend Em and my #1 floofster for talking to me these past couple days and actually giving me the motivation to pull this off. XD I mean all I had to do was procrastinate on studying even though I have finals tomorrow HA.
> 
> ~obryzii

**Author's Note:**

> Instagram: @obryzii  
> DA: @articfirexx  
> Tumblr: @obryzii  
> YouTube: @obryzii  
> WattPad: @obryzii


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